


Compulsory

by bespectacledmermaid



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Police Procedural, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bespectacledmermaid/pseuds/bespectacledmermaid
Summary: "Guns are powerful things. You just have to point it at someone and you are in charge." One of the team has a mandatory psych eval after discharging their weapon in the line of duty.
Relationships: Don Flack/Original Female Character(s)





	Compulsory

Guns are powerful things. I have never fired mine on the job. You just have to point it at someone and you are in charge.

Sorry, I should have said I _had_ never fired my gun. At least not until today.

\---

The tall man entered through the open door of the office and gave a half smile before sitting in the armchair opposite the older man.

"Good morning Detective..." The greying man glanced down at the case file and back over his glasses at him.  
"Hey." he replied quietly. He didn't have the posture of most of the city jobs the older man took on. In fact all of the cops who had come in for these mandatory evaluations had swaggered in the door, talked crap for an hour then made sure the good doctor signed them off as perfectly sane. This young man however - was different. He looked like he genuinely needed to be there. A pained look in his blue eyes and the way he twiddled his thumbs. Something had affected him.  
"I hear you're one of the best in your field, Dr MacIntyre." he said. It almost sounded like a question. Never one for compliments, Dr MacIntyre coughed and rubbed at his stubbled chin.  
"I enjoy my work." He said. "I think that's what makes me good at it." The doctor noticed the young detectives shoulders relax and he sat back a little. "Now in your file it says that last week, you were involved in a shooting that resulted in a death."  
He nodded.  
"I'd like to hear your account of the events, but try to break away from the protocol of a statement or a report. Start from the beginning of your day and try to describe your feelings and how they progressed as the situation unfolded."

\---

I had been investigating the death of a patrol cop, Charles Bradley. Good guy. He was shot on a call out to a supposed domestic disturbance, but the more we looked into it, the worse it got. Drugs, gang warfare, weapons smuggling. You name it, Charlie hung out with someone who dealt in it. At first I thought he was dirty. Turned out he was doing a little investigation of his own. His brother had gotten involved with one of the Russian gangs and he was trying to get him out. With the evidence Charlie had collected and a few of his sources, my unit had received word of cocaine being moved to Canada and we had a raid planned. We'd stop the shipment before it left the city.

The morning started off pretty unusually anyway. She was there when I woke up. Sally. She had never stayed with me before, but she finally let her guard down a little and even managed to sleep in my bed. She had wrapped herself around my arm and it had gone dead, but I didn't really care. I was just glad she was near me. My alarm soon went off, a loud, high pitched beep. Nothing else would wake me in the morning.  
"Don..." she murmured, straining to open her eyes and I apologised and told her to go back to sleep. It didn't take me long to shower and shave. As I stared at myself in the mirror, I felt good. I was almost a little excited. If we had the right place and the right time then maybe Charlie's life wouldn't have been taken in vain. I quickly got into my suit, but as usual my tie held me back. I never could get the hang of them. I hadn't worn them since middle school and it was a requirement for all detectives to wear a shirt and tie. The one thing that I hated about my promotion, having to look the part all the time. I had been getting up for years and just throwing on the same old dark uniform, but I now had to make an effort. I turned away from my wardrobe and back to the bed. Sally was snoring a little. I smiled. I stood looking at her, her dark hair splayed out on the white pillow and her cheeks rosy from being too warm all night. After a moment or two I leaned over and gently kissed her head, picking my watch up as I did so and I was soon on my way to the precinct.

As I sat stuck in traffic I couldn't help but let my mind wander to the night before. I felt like the cat who got the cream. And that cream tasted sweet. I had met Sally when I interviewed her as a witness to an armed robbery of the bodega across the street from her mother's bakery. Most of the people the uniforms had spoken to had been frightened or upset by the robbery. Sally seemed more resilient and instead was angry that someone dare rob Mr Estevez after all he had done for the neighbourhood. I saw a fire and passion in her eyes and I knew I had to speak to her again. Despite Danny discouraging me with his 'speaking from experience' advice, I called her up. A few months later I knew I was right to follow my instincts. We were incredibly close already. And when she had let go a little of her hurts from the past and stayed with me it was - at the risk of sounding cheesy - magical. I'm not one for waiting around in the _physical_ department, but for Sally I was willing to wait. And I'm so glad I did. Just as my thoughts were getting to the R rated part of our night, a car horn sounded behind me and I realised the traffic was finally moving.

To say I was in an excellent mood when I reached work was no exaggeration. I practically skipped up the stairs in the early morning sun. It was warm for the first week in April. I was greeted at my desk by Hale, a detective from Narcotics. He was in charge of the team we were coordinating with on the bust.  
"Flack, I called SWAT. They can give us 12 officers. Is that gonna be enough?"  
"Plenty." I replied. "Our guys plus them is enough to take this place. It's a warehouse but it ain't huge."  
"Alright, it was one of yours who cased the place, I'll take your word for it." And with a wink, he was off.

I pulled my suit jacket off and settled into my chair. I had a lot of prep to do. We had gotten the information about the drugs being moved only two days before. That was not a lot of time to organise such a big bust, but since both crime units had wanted to be involved, we had pulled off the almost impossible and were just about ready to go. I had just unrolled the blueprints of the gang's building, when the phone on my desk rang.  
"Yeah?" I said as I picked it up.  
"Detective Flack, I have a Sally Ryan on the line for you. Are you able to take the call?" Claudia from the reception asked me.

"Sure, put her through." The line went quiet for a few seconds before I heard a click. "Hey there.Hot Lips." There was a long pause.  
"You did _not_ just call me 'Hot Lips'?" Sally said, her voice monotonic. I shrugged despite the fact she couldn't see me.  
"I dunno, was the first thing that came to mind!" I said and she replied with a giggle.  
"You dork. Anyway, cheesy pet names aside, I didn't get the chance to tell you I had a wonderful night, before you ran off to work."  
I gave a sigh. "Yeah, it was pretty amazing."  
"How about I make us some dinner tonight? I’m thinking home made pasta, some nice wine. Does that sound like a good idea, Detective?" she asked. The mere thought almost made me salivate all over my desk. Sally had made me some of the best cakes I had ever tasted. I'd become quite popular with the boxes of treats she occasionally dropped off at the station. Even Chief Sinclair had devoured a few.  
"She's a looker and she can cook? Flack, I think you're onto a keeper there." He had said, licking his lips.  
"Well if your food is half as good as your cakes are, I'd say that's an excellent idea."  
"Okay, I’ll head straight to the deli."  
"I can't wait. Listen, I gotta go. This raid is set for sundown. I should be back at my place about 8, if I can dump the paper work on someone."  
"Alright, just let me know when you're heading home and I'll have the food ready when you get in." I could hear a smile in her voice as we said our goodbyes and I got back to jotting down more of my action plan notes.

As the afternoon drew on I liaised with the various departments who had to be in the know of what was going down later that day. I placed a call to central booking. I didn't need to but I thought I'd better give them a heads up that we would more than likely have several arrests and to expect an evening rush.  
"Thanks Flack. That was considerate of you."  
"No problem Marty." Marty McClane was the sergeant in charge of booking. He's one of those cops who could not be forced into retirement. When they told him he was too old to be working the streets, he demanded a job there. It was enough of a desk job to satisfy the top dogs, but enough interaction with the criminals and the street to keep Marty sane. I imagined I'd probably be like that one day. Being a cop isn't just my job, its my duty. Marty wished me 'good luck' before we ended the call. He didn't ask why there was gonna be a bust or who was involved. He knew the score; those details were best kept quiet and the less people who knew the better.

By late afternoon, Hale and I were sure of our plan and we rallied all the detectives and uniforms together. I got the SWAT guys on the teleconference and went over our objectives for the evening. I detailed as much of the murder case as possible and Hale went over what kinds of drugs we expected to find. I had Dan Rosenburg from the organised crime unit speak. He had a few guys on this particular gang and he wanted a crack at them too.  
"These guys are fearless, well the older ones are anyway. A lot of them have spent time in Russian prisons, we got a couple of ex-KGB in there too. They will not think twice about killing you."  
"Yeah, exactly." I took over. "Everyone has to be completely focused, I don't want any casualties. Don't take any risks and stick together."  
"Any questions?" Hale glanced around the room before telling everyone to go and pick up their weapons and vests and assemble in the parking garage in fifteen minutes.

My confidence was soaring as we encircled the building. But as always I kept a little nub of fear hidden away down in the pit of my stomach. My father had told me that fear is what keeps us alive in situations like this. It doesn't have to show, but the fear you or someone else might get hurt gives you the edge to make sure it doesn't happen. Being cocky doesn't help anyone. There was a crackle in my ear piece and I saw other officers stop to listen.  
"Skipper - this is Eagle Eye 3, I have a clear visual of the lower floor."  
I took a deep breath before replying in a voice barely above a whisper. "Go ahead, Eagle Eye 3." We had four snipers posted around the building. They had long range night scopes and were establishing roughly how many gang members there were and where exactly they were located.  
"We have six males loading crates, so far I can see that two have holstered handguns."  
"Roger that." I got each of the snipers to report in turn. From what they could see, our numbers were pretty much equal. With a few quick hand signals we were soon bursting in through the doors, announcing who we were and shouting commands at the gang members to drop any weapons they had and get on the ground.

As planned, myself, Hale and two other officers headed up the stairs to check the smaller rooms. Our shoes clanked on the metal stairs and we split up along the elevated walk-way. I kicked open a door to find an office that was devoid of anything outwardly suspicious. However, stacks of paperwork sat on the desk and there was a filing cabinet in the corner. Hopefully there would be a nice paper trail implicating as many people as possible in this drug smuggling ring. I was just about to pull open a drawer in the desk when someone below started firing shots wildly and I spun round. I peered through the dirty glass of the office to see what was going on. The place was swarming with men, many more than we had anticipated.  
"Flack, we're moving in!" I heard in my ear from one of the SWAT officers who had been covering the perimeter. "They were hiding in the vans, they must have known we were coming!" Before I could get back out the door to help, I took a stray bullet in the vest. Strange feeling. Knocked me on my ass. I lay on the floor - stunned - for a several minutes. My head was swimming, I had cracked it on the table on my way down.

For a few seconds the din eased off and I could hear creeping footsteps getting closer to me and my eyes flicked upwards as a shadow passed over the grubby window.  
" _Gun. Find your gun. Pick up your goddamn gun!_ " My brain was telling me, but I could hardly move as I struggled to shake off the dizziness. My fingers groped the floor, fruitless in their search. I gave a frustrated growl.  
" _Shit!_ " I thought as the quiet steps hastened and the door flew open. The person at the door seemed to stare at me for a few moments before he moved. A streak of orange light from the street fell across his hand. He had a gun.

Adrenaline must have forced me up and I grabbed for my weapon - it had only been a few inches from my reach. Before the guy's reflexes could get him into motion, I had shot him. Square in the chest. I flopped onto my back again, feeling relief like I'd never felt before. I heard gurgling and spluttering for a few seconds. And then silence. At least from him. I could hear shouting from my colleagues elsewhere in the building. As my heart slowed to a steady rate, I sat back up, fumbling in the semi-darkness for my torch. I found it and clicked it on. The beam met a navy blue, Converse sneaker and I guided the light up the assailants crumpled body. He had fallen against the door. A sudden wave of nausea washed over me as I saw his face. Spattered with blood and his eyes wide. He was just a kid. Couldn't have been older than 17, I guessed. The whole thing had happened so fast, I wasn't even sure it had happened yet.  
" _This isn't real._ " I thought as I ran my hand over my sweat covered face. " _Any minute now, I'm gonna wake up in bed with my girl._ " I blinked hard a few times. " _Fuck, this_ ** _ **is**_** _real!_ " The feelings of relief were replaced with sheer panic. I had shot and killed a kid. I thought I should check his pulse, call for a bus, maybe he was okay. But I knew he was gone.

Chaos had ensued around me and I hardly took notice. I was on auto-pilot as I decked a gunman and cuffed him. Gun shots rang out and bullets flew around me, but I carried on dragging the guy outside and threw him into the back of one of the cars. He was screaming at me in Russian, I later thought he was probably telling me how nuts I was.

For the rest of the evening my gun stayed holstered. I mostly waited outside, dealing with escapees and making sure the men being taken into custody were properly restrained and in the vans. The situation took a long time to get under control, but eventually the gunfire and shouting eased off. Patrol cars and ambulances had shown up in response to the noise and the alleyway and surrounding streets were bathed in blue and red light. The pavements were lined with onlookers. I've never understood the fascination with hanging around a crime scene. I'm naturally curious, I'd have to be to do the job I do, but death and destruction ain't my idea of entertainment. Maybe its because I deal with it all the time that on my day off I'd rather be sprawled out on the couch instead of watching cops struggling with suspects, bodies being put into bags and the injured being treated as their blood runs in the streets. One of our guys had been rushed off to hospital with a bullet lodged in his lower neck, but the rest of our casualties were less critical gunshot wounds to limbs or cuts and bruises from falls or fighting hand to hand with the gang members.

After making sure the entire building was clear I called in the forensics team. I got out of there as quickly as I could, knowing that Mac and Hawkes were both pulling a double. I didn't think I would be able to stay composed if I met either of them. I was soon able to take stock of the situation in the relative quiet of my car. Not a lot of people had known about the raid, someone on the inside must have got word to the crime family. I was angry. But I was glad, in a way, that something had come along to mask the emotions I'd been feeling. I could cover up my desperate guilt with this new found rage. Two days was not a lot of time to find out about our plans, there _must_ have been a leak. According to the CO of the SWAT team, the snipers had witnessed men pouring from the trucks. Why would they bother hiding in there if they weren't expecting us? With my mind reeling, I started the car and made my way back to the station.  
  
  


"Flack, just go home. Don't get too stressed over this supposed mole crap, we can sort it out in the morning."  
I had been pacing up and down past Hale's desk for almost an hour. I had been referring to a list of officers on the case but we couldn't imagine any of them being untrustworthy enough to sell us out. I gave a resigned sigh. As much as I wanted to find out who, if anyone, had given us away, I felt tired. Not to mention my focus should have been on cataloguing the evidence and suspects from the drug bust.  
"Go." Hale repeated. "I got this. I'm off tomorrow, so I'll finish what I can tonight and you can take over when you start your shift."  
"Okay, just leave it on my desk and I'll get my report done." I nodded a few times to convince myself and went to find my jacket. I was inches from the main door of the station when my phone began to ring. The caller ID displayed a photo of Danny pulling a stupid face.  
" _Goddammit_ _Messer_." I said to myself. " _I let you borrow my phone for two seconds…_ "  
"Hello?"  
"Hey Flack, are you busy?" Danny asked.  
"No I was just heading home. Where are you?"  
"I'm at the lab, night shift. Sid wants to know if you can come identify one of the DBs. Its just so he can record a statement, I guess, in his autopsy report."  
I swallowed hard knowing all too well exactly who he wanted me to identify. Sid wanted me to confirm which one I shot. Not that he really needed me to, I'd already released my firearm to ballistics who would compare stria on the rounds in his chest. But Sid probably had some sort of pointless protocol to follow and I changed direction.  
"Alright, I'll be there in a few minutes."

I walked as slowly as I could. I felt lighted headed - a combination of hunger, exhaustion and the task at hand. As I made my way through the labs, Stella smiled and waved enthusiastically at me from behind her desk. I waved out of politeness but quickened my pace. Stella is like a sister to me, a constant support. I didn't want to lay my troubles on her in that moment and apart from anything else, the walls in that place are made of glass. If I broke, even for a second, everyone would see. She didn't seem too concerned that I raced by without stopping. She understood I was having a busy night and knew what it was like to not even have a minute for a friendly catch-up. I was glad I could rely on her assuming that and made for the doorway to the morgue.

As I placed my hand on the cold handle I heard the familiar clink of metal on metal. I pushed the swing door open to find Danny holding a dish up to Sid while he dropped another slug into it. The sound rang in my ears. The medical examiner said something to me, I didn't hear him. I was staring at the body on the table and the three circular wounds on the chest. Centre-mass, multiple shots. As my training dictated. I finally came to my senses when Danny said my name.  
"Busy night, huh?" He asked, pushing his glasses up his nose. I glanced at the bowl in his gloved hand and quickly looked away with a small nod.  
"Is this the perp you shot, Flack?" Sid asked in a rather offhand manner. I thought he was being far too casual. I had killed someone and he was barely paying attention as he noted something down on a sheet.  
"Yeah, that's him Sid." I swallowed hard, keeping the urge to throw up at bay. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Danny and the medical examiner share a look.  
"Alright Flack, lets go." I felt Danny place a hand on my back and I withdrew my gaze from the pasty and youthful face. He turned and thanked Sid for the bullets and asked him to forward the autopsy report as soon as he had finished it, before he followed me out into the corridor. One flash of his blue eyes told me he knew there was something up with me.  
"You okay, man?"  
I ran a hand over my face. "Not really." I replied. "I killed that kid in there, Danny. I shot him."  
"Flack if you hadn't shot him, that could have been you on Sid's table. You had to defend yourself."  
The thought that it was either me or him hadn't so much as entered my mind all evening. What Danny said made sense, but it did little to comfort me. I couldn't help but feel I'd done something wrong and utterly atrocious. He gave me a look as if he really wasn't sure what to say to me before grasping my upper arm.  
"Listen, the raid went well. Your team stopped a large shipment and we got a lot of bad guys in custody. And it's all thanks to your determination to keep the investigation up. This will be put down as a good shooting and Sinclair will be kissing your ass for weeks."  
Danny gave me an encouraging smile which I just about managed to return.  
"I'm gonna head home." I said, clapping my hand to Danny's shoulder. A hug would have been too much, so I quickly stepped away from him as he said goodnight and finally headed for my car.

I barely realised that I had driven home and I suddenly found myself outside my apartment door. As I rested my forehead on the cool wood, I could still smell the varnish despite the door having been stained more than a month ago. I desperately wanted Sally to be there. I needed her. But I was several hours late. Of course she would be at home - she'd be nuts to stay.

I was so sure I was seeing things in my exhausted state. Sally was sitting in my armchair with a book in her lap. The only thing I saw for a few seconds were her hazel eyes glowing orange in the reading light. That was until she got up and rushed across the room to me as I slumped onto the sofa.  
"I was worried sick." I could feel her heart pounding fast as she leant against me, checking me over. Her hands touching my arms and chest and face, looking for outward, physical evidence of what was wrong.  
"I thought you would be angry."  
"No, well I was at first. But when you didn't answer your phone...I've been frantic since like...10.30. Tried a little reading to distract myself. I couldn't leave without knowing you were safe." She gave a small, awkward laugh. I could tell she thought she had given too much away.  
"Thank you." I mumbled and before I knew what was happening there were tears running down my face. She had no idea what had happened and she didn't ask. Instead Sally wrapped her arms around me and pulled me to her. I was so grateful at that moment. So appreciative that she didn't demand an explanation as to why I was ridiculously late and why I was sobbing into her shoulder. She just let me feel. She ran a hand through my hair as I grasped onto her.  
"Its okay." Sally whispered. "I'm here."

\---

"...and that's when I crashed out on the sofa and my day was finally over." Flack finished his explanation, feeling suddenly much lighter and with his eyes slightly glazed. MacIntyre felt he had to offer him some sort of comfort, it had clearly been a difficult, yet very useful reliving of the day.  
"I'm not one to condone killing of any kind, but it wasn't an innocent schoolboy you shot. It says here his DNA matched a sample found at four separate crime scenes, three of which were armed robberies, the other – a sex crime. In defending yourself you also removed a violent offender from the streets of New York."  
Flack shifted a little in his seat. He hadn't thought of it that way. Someone ending up dead was never good in his eyes, but this young man had deserved punishment of some kind. Maybe a jail sentence wouldn't have stopped him committing crimes. Maybe his time was just up. From what he had told him, Dr MacIntyre could tell this particular member of the NYPD was strong and usually confident. He was passionate and with the friends and colleagues he had spoken about, seemed like the kind of person who had the will power and support to bounce back.  
"I'll pass on my report to your superiors that you attended this compulsory session. If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to call."  
With a firm hand shake and a slightly strained smile, the young man bade Dr MacIntyre good day. MacIntyre finished his notes with a signature, confident that Detective Don Flack would be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> As with Never Eat Red Snow, I'm working through older fics that I've written a long time ago and reposting or updating. Thankfully this one didn't need any changes, apart from the odd spelling mistake. Thanks for reading.


End file.
